


Oolong

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 05:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Mithrandir goes and Lindir comes.





	Oolong

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set during the Fellowship when the hobbits reach Rivendell.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Mithrandir makes his leave, and Elrond is left to think. His gaze sweeps out over the open balcony, scanning the gorgeous gardens below. The seasons are changing, the leaves transitioning through a plethora of colours, only adding to their beauty. He can hear minstrels playing in the distance, familiar voices whispering on the wind. Imladris is a haven from the darkness of the world. But darkness has come to his doorstep, and Elrond knows he doesn’t have the luxury of turning it away.

The door to his study opens, and Elrond turns to watch his assistance wander out onto the porch. Lindir has a tray in his hands, laden with tea and treats from the kitchens. He’s ever faithful, always ready at this time, though Elrond has never required such lavish attentions. Lindir comes to set the tray down on the table by the bench, and then he straightens out again, hands folding over his lap. Elrond bids him, “Thank you.”

Lindir bows his head, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he murmurs, “You look stressed, my lord. Is there anything that I can do to aid you?”

A smile tugs at Elrond’s lips. Only his sweet assistant would offer everything so readily and easily: Lindir is always leaping to serve him in every way imaginable. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and it’s very much appreciated. Elrond muses, “You are too kind.” Then he sighs and admits, “I am well enough. It is just that I have much to think of now.”

Lindir tilts his head curiously. His eyes drift over the balcony, like Elrond’s had, and perhaps he sees someone in the gardens, because he notes, “Yes; we have strange visitors again. ...But they are pleasant guests this time, are they not?”

Elrond can’t help but feel proud. In the grand scheme of his life, it hasn’t been all that long since Lindir loathed the thought of visitors. Elrond tells him, “What a long way you have come. I remember you finding it difficult to tolerate even the mere presence of dwarves.”

Lindir’s lovely face scrunches with a wince. It almost makes Elrond laugh. “Forgive me, my lord, but I am still not fond of dwarves. I have, however, grown quite fond of Mr. Bilbo, and the other halflings like him seem nice enough.” He pauses thoughtfully, then adds with a soft blush across his pale cheeks, “Although, I have never been as fond of anyone as I am of my lord, so I do hope your troubles swiftly leave.”

No one can bring a smile to Elrond quite so smoothly as his Lindir. He reaches out a hand, a Lindir tentatively slips his own into it. Elrond uses that light grip to gently tug Lindir down next to him. Lindir joins him on the bench, and the two of them have tea.


End file.
